The Strength Within
by Frances
Summary: The daughter of Faramir travels from Rohan to Gondor for the annual festivities in celebration of the Fellowship. There she is met once again with the figures of her childhood, one of which she finds herself undeniably drawn to. Legolas romance.
1. To Set the Scene

The Strength Within By: Frances  
  
***  
  
DISCLAIMER: I, of course, own nothing. ^_^  
  
***  
  
Faramyn, eldest daughter of Eowyn and Faramir, took a last look at the beloved lands of Rohan before turning and settling herself firmly in the saddle. Oh, what she would not give to stay there interminably! It was difficult, straddling two countries. The traveling was often insufferable and the heartache ten times more so. However, when the weather was nice and the horses pleasant, there was an undeniable peace about moving steadily through the beautiful mountain range she'd come to call home. The golden sun shining fondly upon the glistening valleys and wide planes... the distant pounding of wild hoofs upon the brilliantly green grasses... a cheerful cry of greeting from a swallow as it dove in and out of sight. Yes, all in all, there was no place Faramyn would rather be passing through than Rohan.  
  
Although, it could not be denied... it was much more enjoyable when she was passing in the opposite direction- towards home.  
  
Then again, she reminded herself, for every amount of pleasantness Rohan shone, Gondor surpassed the amount in impressiveness. There was positively nothing to compare to the beckoning cry of the great stone city from just beyond the horizon. She supposed in reality she loved Gondor every bit as much as she loved Rohan... just in different ways. When in Gondor, Faramyn felt overwhelmed by the history of her people. Her mother and father dwelled there, and it was where she grew up. There was implied strength in that place, as if all its sons and daughters should be powerful and great. The haunting gray outer buildings wore masks of battles gone by- intentionally, of course- to remind men and women alike what was expected of them. It was, by all means, inspiring. Meaningful, in its majestic grace and subtle charm. Faramyn knew she lived up to these standards, though. She needed not to be dogged constantly. Her mother had seen that the utmost care was given in Faramyn's training, so she was strong and proud. Though clumsy with a bow, her fingers were tools of precision and natural ability when it came to the blade. So excellent was she that she believed her skill would serve well, were she knighted; she often said so. Much like her mother, however, it anguished her that she would never taste the heat of battle.  
  
"I am as powerful as any man in the kingdom," she had insisted to King Eomer once. "And twice as cunning. You know that I am! Why can I not be knighted?" She was only fifteen at the time, kneeling by her uncle's side, and he smiled.  
  
"My dear, you are beautiful and indeed cunning. But yours is not a thirst for battle, merely glory. You do not see that you already cast to shadow all who are about you! What sort of king would I be if I did not keep such a jewel safely where she belongs?"  
  
"But I belong on the fields with the swordsmen, fighting orcs!" she pleaded. "That is what I desire. What glory could I possibly gain from the experience?"  
  
With twinkling eyes, the man patted her arm. "The same yearned for by your mother, sweetest Faramyn." He would say no more on the matter, though the meaning of his cryptic words was lost.  
  
Now older and wiser, Faramyn understood. Eomer believed she wanted merely to prove that there was no such thing as "men's work".  
  
Rubbish, all of it.  
  
However, she loved the man so. He was a king amongst the greatest of kings, and admirable in all ways. Sighing wearily, she glanced over to her brother Boromir, (named after their deceased uncle) who rode beside her. Her two younger sisters, Ellanise and Terramyre, were already in Gondor. An annual festival was being held in honor of the success of the Fellowship. Eowyn and Faramir, alongside their son and daughters, were there to represent the late King Theoden, and Boromir... the Tall, the Fair, the Bold... How she wished she could have known him.  
  
Also attending the festivities would of course be King Aragorn son of Arathorn, with his wife the elfin Arwen and all of their brood. There was Lastris, a man whom Faramyn had grown up with. He was a clone of his father to the very last detail- therefore he was attractive, levelheaded, and positively breathtaking in his sheer royalty. Behind him was Gilarelle who possessed her mother's haunting beauty and quiet grace. The youngest of them all was Eramor at sixteen years of age, and he was by far the most elfin. The three had feather-light footsteps and pointed ears, but Eramor had the subtle charm and patience, as well as the love of the woods. He stood, even at his age, nearly six and a half feet tall, and his presence commanded a gentle kind of awe.  
  
Gimli son of Gloin would make the trip, and by his side would be Legolas of Mirkwood. The two were an amusing pair, and very easy to accompany. In fact, Faramyn recalled with a smile, Legolas had been her first fancy as a girl. He was handsome in his own right, and very polite. Undeniably captivating in so many fashions and overall very enticing, it took him only moments to snatch her heart. She now blushed at the memory, but grinned. How silly she had been... how carefree.  
  
Boromir stopped trotting for a moment, shielding his eyes and glancing around the dimly lit plane. He turned his head and smiled at her boyishly. "Nightfall is nearly upon us. As certain as I am that you would enjoy an orc ambush, I would much prefer stopping here for the evening."  
  
Faramyn laughed and shook her head. "Don't label me as battle-hasty, Brother. I may just save your life one day."  
  
Rolling his eyes with a sigh, he nodded. "Right."  
  
A scowl crept across Faramyn's features, but she shrugged. She would not become sullen now. There was a festival to look forward to!  
  
***  
  
A/N: What do you think? Too fast-paced, maybe? Leave me a review! (Or a flame- "whatever floats your boat," I always say. ^_^) 


	2. Arrivals

The Strength Within Chapter 2  
  
By: Frances  
  
***  
  
DISCLAIMER: I, of course, own nothing. ^_^  
  
***  
  
After several long days of riding, Boromir and Faramyn prepared for the final leg of their journey. They arose long before morning's first light and packed swiftly before heading into the darkness at intense speeds. The horses, appearing to sense the excitement about their riders, succumbed to the drive to push determinedly onward. The very air was thick with anticipation.  
  
The travelers spoke very little that morning, although, in honesty Faramyn did not mind. Her heart was fluttering rapidly in her ribcage like a struggling bird responding to the pull of its nearby nest. The sound of pounding hooves was the only one to disturb the still of the morn. Through the deep, black oblivion they raced, until nearly two hours later it faded to blue. Boromir then pulled his stallion to a stop and his sister followed suit. Faramyn smiled knowingly at him as they nudged the animals up a steep hill that was the final obstacle.  
  
As they rounded over the highest point of the mound, the sun began to bleed red in the distance, creeping above the horizon and reaching out with its delicate fingers of rose. It slowly spread over the still plane to greet them, and at that point Faramyn could swear it paused, as if to indulge them in their looking. There, below them, they could see the great stone city, solemn and proud. Her breath caught in her throat and she melted into the beauty of the surrounding canvas. All of it... everything around them... was perfect. Such a swelling in her chest she felt, that she feared she might burst. This was the home of her people and her heritage.  
  
Beaming, she turned to look at Boromir. His gallant expression and rugged features made him look knightly and bold. Above his firmly set mouth the eyes of his mother spoke clearly of awe and happiness. All things considered, he was a brilliant man. Faramyn was in that instance filled with pride and love for him. A smile found its way across her face, identical to Eowyn's, but met by the glittering eyes of her father and framed by his thick dark locks. Laughing and flicking the reigns in her hands, she took off towards the city.  
  
"Come along, then!" she cried over her shoulder with a slight smirk. "Would you have me beat you to the gates?"  
  
But he was already in close pursuit.  
  
~*~  
  
The family of stewards resided in the castle alongside the royal family, as it was before Gondor lost its king. By the time Boromir and Faramyn reached it, they were both laughing unstoppably. A good-natured argument over who had won the race broke out, occupying their full attention even as they climbed from their saddles and handed their horses to a stable boy.  
  
"You were leagues behind me from start to finish!" insisted Faramyn with a grin. "So far, in fact, that I had time to wonder whether you were coming at all or if you had merely returned your sights and your destination northward to Rohan." Nudging him delightedly, she continued. "Of course, in the time it took you to appear by my side, you may very easily have traveled home and back again!"  
  
Boromir shook his head and smiled, leading her to the main entrance and into the great marble hall. "Setting the race aside, Sister, surely you see we are truly home at last." He gestured broadly before him and inhaled deeply of the familiar air. "And in conclusion to our debating," he smiled slyly, unable to resist. "We shall simply say that the best man took victory, as he usually does in all matters of competition." A laugh rose in his throat but he stifled it, winking at his fuming sibling. He knew full well that his figurative reference to an old saying would spark Faramyn's temper. Always she strived, attempting to prove that her gender in no way impaired her ability to handle herself.  
  
"Oh, you think you're quite agile of tongue-" she began angrily, but was interrupted as a hurried woman came bustling into the corridor, smiling through misty eyes.  
  
"Oh, Faramyn, how wonderful to see you again!" she exclaimed. Noisily she approached the pair and took Faramyn's hand, smiling respectfully at Boromir. "Master Boromir, your father requests your immediate presence." There was a brief silence. Then, smirking playfully at his sister, the man inclined his head and disappeared from sight. "Ah, dearest child!" resumed Elle, Faramyn's ancient handmaid. "You have been away so long!"  
  
"It has indeed been ages," she responded as her anger melted. "I had forgotten how lovely a sight this place made when viewed from afar, and how my heart sings to embrace every detail of it." A sigh escaped her lips and she glanced contentedly around the old walls and numerous banners.  
  
"It is indeed lovely," agreed Elle distractedly. "Look at you, dear! You've come of age so quickly! Here you are, a woman in my presence..." She frowned. "And dirty, at that. Come along, then, we must get you bathed and changed before the feast this evening."  
  
"Feast?" Faramyn echoed dumbly.  
  
"Yes, yes, of course. Have your brains failed you, child? There is a feast tonight, the first night of the festival. All the guests have already arrived!" Forcefully she took hold of Faramyn's shoulders and began leading her towards her room. It was a short trek up a flight of stairs and through a narrow passageway, a shortcut revealed to her by her father at a very young age. The tiny corridor also served as an excellent hiding place, though Elle always knew to find her there.  
  
"Oh, yes. That feast. It certainly slipped my mind, I'm afraid." They stepped into her luxurious accommodations, where in a small white room to the left a bath had already been drawn. It reeked of expensive salts and the surface was steaming through a layer of flower petals. Gasping, Faramyn smiled disbelievingly at her old nurse. "Amazing, Elle!" she said warmly. "How is it that you always know precisely what I need?"  
  
"That's enough of that," the woman laughed. "I am not so great. You are as easy to predict as the seasons!" She quickly removed the traveling gear strapped to Faramyn's waist before shooing her teasingly towards the tub. "Just enjoy it! I will be out here hemming your gown for the evening; call if you need me." They had established long ago that unlike most girls and women, Faramyn much preferred to bathe herself.  
  
"Thank you," she gushed before hastily crossing to the awaiting cleansing. Quick work was made of her clothes and hairpins and in no time at all she was submerged in the bubbling water.  
  
A sigh escaped her lips. She dipped beneath the water and pushed her hair away from her face, grinning in reminiscence as the sound of her nursemaid's humming met her ears. For several long minutes she toyed with the petals in the bath, watching insightfully as ripples pooled outwards from the disturbed tension. Only one thought plagued her mind, and it was not what she would have expected it to be.  
  
She simply couldn't wait to see Legolas again.  
  
It had been nearly six years since she'd seen him last. Far too long, she knew. After turning fifteen, however, she did not return to the city of her birth. It was in that year she had fallen in love with Rohan, and chosen to stay there indefinitely. As a girl the family had frequently traveled between the two countries, but it was not until her fifteenth birthday that she had awoken early to watch the sunrise over the mountains, and the people come out of their houses to begin the day's work. Transfixed, she had gazed from her window across the snow-peaked ranges for nearly two hours before she was forced to dress and eat breakfast.  
  
The elf had always remained in her thoughts, however, regardless of where she lived. It was child's play, she knew... After all, he was not a man. His eyes had seen hundreds and hundreds of years slip through their notch in the hourglass, and they would see hundreds to come... Still, something inside her glowed upon the mention of his name. Perhaps it was only remnants of her girlhood crush.  
  
"Elle?" Faramyn called lightly, cutting the stillness that had enveloped them.  
  
"Yes, child?"  
  
Biting her lip, she held back a smile. "Has... Legolas appeared much since his arrival?"  
  
"The elf?" asked the nursemaid obliviously. "Yes, yes, he pops up all over the place. It makes me rather nervous, what with him prancing about, stalking around without making the slightest of noises. His kind has always set me on edge. Very mysterious, if I do say so."  
  
"Hm..." Faramyn said noncommittally.  
  
Continuing on, Elle pulled her needle tightly through the material across her lap and clicked her tongue. "He asked of you yesterday."  
  
Sitting up abruptly, Faramyn could feel her heart jump in her chest. She cleared her throat and hid her intrigue expertly. "Did he?"  
  
"Oh, yes. You and your brother, that is. He seemed to think that your journey shouldn't have taken half as long as it did." She snorted indignantly. "It would take an elf half the time, of this I'm sure, but what does he think you to be? Divine beings? I told him directly when he asked me if you had arrived yet. 'Master Elf,' I said. 'They won't be here until tomorrow afternoon, tomorrow morning at the best. The distance from here to Rohan is greater than you may think!' He disagreed, of course. Politely, though, I might say. He is a graceful man, but so mysterious."  
  
Faramyn's stomach dropped alongside her spirits, but she said nothing for a long moment. "... I see." So, he had not asked about her alone. Indeed, he had most likely been more in search of Boromir than her. With a slight groan, she eased sorely from the tub and reached for the blanket that had been set nearby. Once fully dry, she picked up her discarded dress but was stopped by Elle's clear exclamation.  
  
"No, no! You'll have to wear something clean, dearest," she remarked.  
  
"But I'll only be wearing it for a few hours!" Faramyn laughed.  
  
"That is of no matter," the maid scolded. "You'll be meeting with your mother and father this afternoon. Do you not want to present yourself as clean and beautiful?"  
  
A thought crossed the young woman's mind and she nodded slowly. "Ah yes, you are right as always. Tell me Elle, what dressing do I have available?"  
  
Bustling to a nearby cabinet, she pulled out several rather lavish dresses in numerous colors. "You always look so lovely in any one of these," she murmured absently, placing them on the bed. "Though I know you prefer nothing so fancy." Her hands continued to search through the large wardrobe until she came across the perfect gown. "Ah, here we are. You will look stunning, my dear."  
  
The dress was somewhat plain in design, but its color was a crisp white. Next to her dark hair it *would*, indeed, look stunning. Smiling, Faramyn allowed Elle to lift it over her head and tie what ties it had. She was caught off-guard when the woman forced her into a chair and began vigorously combing through her hair. "What ridiculousness is this?" cried Faramyn in slight alarm.  
  
"Hush, child," Elle laughed, taking up chunks of her curls and braiding a hasty halo that pulled the hair back from Faramyn's face. The rest cascaded down her back. "You aren't a young girl anymore. You must look like the woman you are!"  
  
"Oh womanly indeed," she scowled. "You wait on me more in this instance than ever before!" Rising and shaking her head, she crossed to the full- length mirror than hung on the southern wall.  
  
A grin broke across her face. Planting a fluttery kiss on the cheek of her maid, she waved and flew from the room. She had old friends to catch up with.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: Okay, I promise it picks up and actually goes somewhere in the next chapter. ^^; We're getting there! I just needed these chapters to set the scene. Many thanks to my two reviewers, both of whom were anonymous! (Otherwise I'd slap their names up here. ^_^) I hope you like this chapter! 


	3. Window Seats and Old Friends

The Strength Within Chapter 3  
  
By: Frances  
  
Faramyn could not recall feeling so incredibly awestruck in her entire life. Her footsteps were light and fast-paced along the cool stone flooring, and her eyes were glowing as though she had been suddenly immersed in a grand fairy tale. Not a single thing had changed about the lovely old castle, and yet, everything was so foreign to her! How could she have ever grown tired of this place? Its beauty was nothing in comparison to the simple yet breathtaking charm of Rohan, however it was certainly a thing to behold. She absentmindedly ran her fingers along the thick tapestries and windowsills as she passed through the hall that led towards the gardens. The route was forever imprinted in her memory, for the gardens were by far the most entrancing sights in all of Gondor... at least in her hardly-humble opinion. A large, elaborately carved window caught Faramyn's attention as she neared the wooden doorway that would take her outdoors. It was tall and slightly narrow, but beautiful. A sort of padded shelf jutted out beneath it; she assumed it to be a window seat.  
  
In the murky depths of her memory she could surely recall the clumsy, poorly sized window, however... The carvings and the seat were entirely new to her. For a moment she wondered if she had not merely forgotten, but a twang in her chest assured her otherwise. This seat was so familiar to her seat... her seat in Rohan that had first entranced her with its amazing view. Whenever anyone from Gondor came to visit her, she would proudly show her window seat and the view that kept her in the land of her mother. Who could have possibly ordered to have it built here? And, like this- identical to the seat that was her favorite spot in all of Middle-Earth? Upon casting her gaze to the world below she could see that the window faced the east, and was high enough that she could see the town below- just like the perch she spent her time on amongst the mountains of her homeland. Oh, how different the view was! This town was large and bustling, complete with a busy market and stone streets. Not at all like the cottages and horses she was accustomed to. However, the resemblance in architecture was uncanny. Someone who knew Rohan had ordered this seat to be built.  
  
"Does it please you, milady?" came a sudden voice behind her. It was deep, soulful, yet expertly contained and very proper. An enormous grin broke across her face. Whirling around, she looked upon the handsome face of her childhood friend. He was smiling gracefully.  
  
"Lastris!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "Was it you that constructed this strange seat?"  
  
He laughed and appeared to consider it. "A queer seat indeed, is it not?"  
  
"Still you play games... has nothing within these walls changed at all?" Faramyn asked, though small bouts of laughter broke into her words. This couldn't be farther from the truth, she knew. Just looking at Lastris caused her heart to flutter madly within her ribcage. He had become, if possible, even more striking and captivating in the four years she had not seen him. Yes, only four years out of his company, but this stretch seemed the longest of all. He had ridden out with Boromir to visit her those many days ago... she had never returned the gesture until now. On a sudden impulse, she reached out and threw her arms around his neck. "It does my heart such good to see you again!"  
  
Unsurprised, Lastris pulled her tightly to him, taking her left hand. "Ay, and it has been far too long!" He held her at arms-length and took in her full presence. "I scarcely recognize you as the boyish swordswoman I once knew!"  
  
Faramyn laughed and pretended to be somewhat shocked at his accusations of her never being girly. "Do you build me a glorious window seat only to lure me here and insult me? I must warn you, sir, I won't stand for it."  
  
"Ah, nay lady, there is no insult in all of Middle-Earth that could adequately pale your beauty," he quipped. Always he was quick of wit and tongue.  
  
"Your words and actions are like the Lotus plant, I fear. Sweet to any outside observations but designed to clear me of all intentions of reaching my homeland. What am I to make of this, Your Highness?" She pushed him playfully away with one hand, before raising the same one dramatically to her forehead.  
  
Lastris merely shook his head at her antics, though his right hand remained intertwined with hers. "Though selfishness would influence me to keep you in Gondor for all time, I would not be the fool to stand between the lady Eowyn's daughter and her Rohan. Surely," he added in jest, "that would be a wish for an instant and untimely end."  
  
"Indeed," nodded Faramyn, locking eyes with him and finding herself briefly unable to look away. Lastris watched her curiously. "We... have much to discuss over dinner this evening," she said slowly. "However, right now I am on my way to the gardens, in search of my mother. Do you care to accompany me?"  
  
"I am afraid I must decline," he responded. "I too find myself searching for my own mother. Though, I will certainly save you a place at my side when it comes time to feast, and we will exchange any and all anecdotes we may have missed in the past four years."  
  
"Numerous though they may be," she chuckled.  
  
Glancing her up and down a final time, Lastris bowed courteously. "I bid you farewell, milady."  
  
Faramyn watched his retreating back until he disappeared down the corridor. A tingling sensation was making its way through her fingertips and up her spine. Shrugging it off, she exited the castle and took in the splendor that was her familiar garden.  
  
The gravel pathways were wide and intricately woven, so that if one was not cautious, they could easily become lost. Faramyn, however, always knew the correct way. She smiled widely as her feet lead her to a spacious clearing, past a bench, beneath a great trellis and into the shade of a clump of trees.  
  
The garden was laid out fairly simply in terms of plant life, however confusing the paths may be. Closest to the castle were the low growing annuals that had to be constantly tended to and replanted. This section, because of its required maintenance, was very small. There was only one pathway through it, and on either side waves of pink, purple and yellow stretched over the level ground. At the end of this short path there was a large, circular dirt clearing which was lined by three trellises and adorned with a heavy bench.  
  
Farthest left was a trellis covered in ivy. Through it, one could find an enormous grove of trees. Most of them were unique or exotic, but there were several of no clear magnificence. Each trunk was properly spaced so as not to feel cramping, but close enough to the others around it as to simulate a young forest. It was Faramyn's favorite part of the garden by far and served as a sort of thinking place, however, it was the largest and included the most paths. Newcomers were not advised to wander through this section unless accompanied by someone who was familiar with it.  
  
Upon the next trellis, a thin layer of roses wound its way between the wooden latticework, bold yet meek at the same time. Through it laid the second largest section, the perennials. These flowers appeared wild and indeed they were. Each spring they returned in full bloom, every bit as impressive as the prissy, uptight annuals. The walkways through this section were not gravel but dirt. This did not lessen the beauty of the portion, however. In the summer time one could wander through the field and be surrounded by the heavy aroma of nature at its finest.  
  
The final sector of the garden was the most difficult to construct. This trellis stood plainly, for once on the other side of it the layout was anything but plain. Huge, towering green bushes rose on either side of the entrance and formed to make a very complex maze. Much thought had been given to the puzzle, and it was indeed very confusing. Faramyn had only successfully navigated through it once. Always the foliage seemed to be shifting and realigning itself, though common sense told her this was impossible. In the fall the leaves would melt into a fiery red that made the maze all the more captivating.  
  
Memories of all portions of the garden came rushing back to Faramyn as she plodded slowly beneath the canopy of the trees, eyes like saucers and mouth drawn into an amused bow. Her mother could not be found on the bench she normally relaxed on in her spare time, but Faramyn decided to visit her old thinking spot before resuming the search elsewhere. At the very edge of the gardens, set slightly away from the others, there was a huge, lofty tree whose foliage shone a pale and shimmering green. Its bark was a strange sort of white, almost silver in its pureness and flawlessness. There were no visible marks marring the perfectly smooth surface and the branches spread like eagles' wings on either side of the trunk. Only one limb was disfigured, though Faramyn did not think of it as such. It was the lowest appendage on the left, and its end was slightly dipped so that it formed an ideal seat. At all times in her life she could remember scampering up the tree and carefully crawling out to her 'nature chair'.  
  
As she neared the beloved figure of her childhood, a soft humming drifted to Faramyn's ears. It beckoned to and spellbound her with its unearthly beauty. The tune was ever familiar, as was the deep, rich tone; it sent a shock from the tip of her toes all the way to her neck. Picking up speed and craning her neck to look to the top of the tree, Faramyn laughed aloud. On the highest branch, Legolas of Mirkwood leaned against the trunk with his feet stretched lazily before him. His eyes were partially closed in a peaceful expression that tugged at her heartstrings.  
  
"Master elf!" Faramyn cried as his gaze opened and sought hers. "Wouldst you have room amongst these boughs for one more idle dreamer?"  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: Hehe... I'm going to cut it off there and devote the next chapter to Legolas. I hope I didn't put too much detail in this chapter and that it makes sense... If my descriptions are sounding more like ramblings, please let me know. =^_^= Thanks again to my fabulous reviewers! You guys are the best! 


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